


Public Display of Affection

by Rehfan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Canon Bisexual Character, Embarrassed Stiles, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 18:43:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2632310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehfan/pseuds/Rehfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the quarter-finals of their college hockey team playoffs and Lydia got them in on the cheap because she was dating one of the stadium coordinators.</p><p>“Who did Lyds give the fourth ticket to if she’s watching from the booth?” asked Stiles around a handful of popcorn.</p><p>“Dear God,” said a voice from behind Stiles’ right shoulder. “Is it possible for you to not talk while you eat, Stilinski?” Stiles coughed and choked on his mouthful as Derek Hale gave him a bemused look. “Well, that’s one way to solve the problem,” he said...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Public Display of Affection

It was the quarter-finals of their college hockey team playoffs and Lydia got them in on the cheap because she was dating one of the stadium coordinators. Stiles was psyched and so was Scott. Kira was excited because Scott was excited, but she was dreading freezing her ass off during the game which was why she was dressed up like Nanook of the North, her faux-fur lined hood nearly swallowing her face as she sat huddled next to Scott.

“Who did Lyds give the fourth ticket to if she’s watching from the booth?” asked Stiles around a handful of popcorn.

“Dear God,” said a voice from behind Stiles’ right shoulder. “Is it possible for you to not talk while you eat, Stilinski?” Stiles coughed and choked on his mouthful as Derek Hale gave him a bemused look. “Well, that’s one way to solve the problem,” he said and sat next to Stiles. “Sorry I’m late. Have I missed anything besides Stiles being disgusting?”

“Well you did miss the Zamboni,” said Scott as he patted Stiles on the back. “Not nearly as entertaining.”

Red-faced Stiles sipped on his soda and gave both Scott and Derek the stink-eye. “Lydia gave you the extra ticket?” he asked.

Derek shrugged. “I guess she likes me.”

“God knows why,” Stiles muttered.

Derek shot him a look, but didn’t say anything as more and more people filed into the stadium to witness what was sure to be a close game. In Beacon County, there were three colleges, but the Beacon College Bruins were the ones playing tonight. The CalTech Beavers were expected to take the championship, however. “Who are you rooting for?” Derek asked Stiles.

“I’m kind of torn, you know?” he said. “I mean, Lyds has been a friend forever and she’s at CalTech now and I love their chances, but then there’s BC: they’re my school and their the underdog and who doesn’t love the underdog, right? And home is home, you know? So it’s a bit of a dilemma.” Derek nodded sagely, almost in solidarity. “What about you?”

“I don’t really care,” said Derek. “I just like the game.”

“I thought your game was basketball?” asked Stiles.

“It still is,” said Derek. “I’ve got season tickets for the Lakers. But I also have season tickets for the Kings.”

Stiles shook his head. “I keep forgetting you’re richer than God.”

Derek let out a huff and a half grin. “I’d like to forget it.”

“Yeah,” said Stiles, with more than a little sarcasm, “money is such a burden. Wish I had your troubles. Me? I’ve got to settle for events that are either cheap or free or are provided by friends who can give me a hook up.”

Derek stared at Stiles for a long time in silence as the other man sipped at his drink staring at the ice. The teams were doing warm-ups, circling the rink and Derek could see the flick of Stiles’ brown eyes as he followed the players around and around and around. “You know,” said Derek, leaning in close to Stiles to be heard, the ambient noise created by the building crowd and the organ music making normal conversation almost impossible, “you could come with me to the games. Peter’s an ass and I’d appreciate the company.”

The fine hairs at Stiles’ neckline stood on end as Derek’s smooth growl came into his ear coupled with warm breath. He turned his head slowly to see Derek Hale uncomfortably close, his expression unreadable. Suddenly, his pride was wounded. “Are you pitying me? Is this pity?”

Derek pulled back, surprised. “No,” he said, “I- I didn’t mean it like that, Stiles.” Anger took over his expression. “See if I offer you that again. Jeez… I was just trying to be nice.”

Stiles looked put out. On the one hand, Derek was throwing him a bone purely because he saw him as a charity case. On the other hand, he just turned down Lakers tickets. He cringed inwardly as he mentally saw Jack Nicholson waving goodbye to him from courtside, trademark sunglasses dipped low on his nose.

 

~080~

 

It was almost the end of the first period of play and Stiles was distracted enough to have cooled from his earlier offense. The Bruins were up by a goal and a powerplay was about to begin when something warm was placed on his knee. Derek’s hand. It had found its way there and for a moment he wondered what the hell was going on. Was Derek teasing him? Playing a joke?

He glanced at Derek who was completely focused on the game. The Bruins had the puck and were threatening the Beaver’s goal, fighting tooth and nail for the score while they still had the advantage of numbers. Derek squeezed his knee on a particularly close shot and for a moment Stiles lost his breath. His eyes darted from Derek’s face, to the game, to the hand on his knee, to the game, to Derek, to his knee… He had no idea what to do. Should he tell Derek? He should. He should tell Derek that gripping his knee and wrapping his fingers around the inside of his thigh like he was - and here Stiles felt his breath stutter again because _warm and tight_ — was giving him a rather inconvenient erection and would he please remove it-

“Score!” cried Derek and his hand disappeared when Derek stood and raised both his hands in triumph. Stiles couldn’t do anything but stare at the man, his thigh instantly cooling from the absence of the over-warm werewolf. He had also never seen Derek so expressive. Dear God, he was actually smiling. And fist pumping. It was weird. The heady mixture of lust and fascination churned around in his brain.

When Derek sat back down he found his voice. “You really do like this game, don’t you?” he shouted to him over the crowd.

Derek’s green eyes were smiling and his face was lit up with a smile. “God yes,” he said. And then the horn sounded for end of first period play. There would be a few minutes of time for the teams to change sides, and then play would resume with another puck drop. This is usually the time when a stadium performed some small interlude: a puck shot for a kid to win some playoff gear; a chance to win a prize based on your ticket section and seat number; or the dreaded kiss-cam.

Stiles thought the kiss-cam was the stupidest invention known to man. It was embarrassing, humiliating and only if he were seated next to Gisele would he ever consider kissing the person he was grouped with. And then it was there: up on the gigantic display above the ice, a couple appeared framed inside of a cheezy heart.

“Oh good God,” moaned Stiles. “I can’t stand this crap. Get on with the game!”

Derek didn’t say a word, made no sign that he had just seconds earlier been earnestly grabbing Stiles’ knee and inner thigh in the heat of the moment. He simply smiled as the couple kissed shyly and turned red.

The next couple in the frame were Scott and Kira. Stiles was certain that Lydia had something to do with that. He watched as Scott enthusiastically leapt at the opportunity to kiss the object of his affections - if only to see her skin go a deep peach color with embarrassment.

The next couple surprised everyone in the stadium and caused more than a few screams of delight.

To Stiles’ horror on the gigantic screen of the jumbo-tron appeared Derek Hale and his own awkward self. Inside of a heart. In front of everyone. Stiles watched the look of terror and revulsion on his own face for a second before he turned to stare at Derek in the flesh. Derek had that bemused grin on his face again and raised an eyebrow at Stiles, green eyes glinting mischievously. The stadium crowd began to clap their hands in rhythm encouragingly and Stiles could feel his heart beating twice as fast as he said to Derek: “You wouldn’t dare.”

This caused a smile to bloom across Derek’s face. A wicked smile. “Why not?” he shrugged. He leaned over the arm rest between them and said: “Do you have a problem with it, Stiles?”

“Well on the whole, I would prefer the person I kiss to not have to shave their face three times a day, so yeah. I guess I do object.” He said the words, but he didn’t really mean them. He could feel the blood in his cheeks and behind his neck at the public situation and the blatant lie that had fallen from his lips. He knew who was behind this. The only person he’d ever told. He turned to the camera and shouted: “LYDIA!”

 

~080~

 

The end of the second period arrived and everyone was emotionally drained. The score was tied up with both teams at each other’s throats. Inside of that twenty minute period, there were six penalty shots, three goals, and two fights. It was turning into a bloodbath. Stiles and Scott had exchanged a few high-fives (when Scott hadn’t decided to kiss Kira with joy) and Derek and Stiles had even exchanged a hug. Purely out of the thrill of the moment, of course. He had brushed his BC jersey down his chest, trying to forget how solid Derek was, how strong he felt along the length of him.

Stiles bit at the straw of his drink and his knee hopped nervously with the recollection. It wasn’t fair. Lydia was evil and must be destroyed and Derek was her impish minion in embarrassing him. Not that he would have minded kissing Derek. Of all the dudes he had known in his life, the man’s animal attraction was undeniable. As was Scott’s, but that was a different fantasy. But a first kiss on a kiss-cam? What the hell was Lydia thinking?!

Derek spotted a concession seller and flagged him down. He turned to the others: “Kira, Scott? You want anything?” Kira shook her head and Scott bought a soda for himself. Derek looked to Stiles.

He had only brought enough money for one soda and the popcorn he had already eaten. He shrugged at Derek. “Nothing for me, thanks,” he said but his stomach grumbled just then. He rubbed it absently and waited for the final period to begin. A warm pretzel appeared under his nose along with another soda. He looked up at Derek, a question in his eyes.

“Shut up and take them,” he said. “It’s not charity or pity or whatever. It’s just my treat. Werewolf hearing, remember? You’re hungry. I’m feeding you. We’re in a pack together, aren’t we? Packs protect and help one another.”

Stiles sat up straighter and took the food without a word. He watched as Derek got himself a bottled water and another pretzel and paid the man. As soon as Derek had settled with his food he managed a mumbled “thanks”.

Derek chewed his pretzel thoughtfully as the team hit the ice, watching Stiles slowly eat from the corner of his eye. He ate humbly and silently. He waited until Stiles was done with his food before slowly placing his arm protectively around the back of Stiles’ seat. Stiles shot him a look. “This okay?” he asked him.

Stiles felt the warm line of Derek along the broadest part of his shoulders. It was a nice feeling. In place of a verbal answer, Stiles just shrugged and nodded a little, a feeble attempt to play it cool. But inside he was coming apart bit by bit. He shifted slightly as the game began anew, the very distinct heat of Derek along his shoulders causing another distinct heat to spread further south inside him. _Oh dear God, not a boner here. Not now_ , he prayed silently for the second time in an hour.

The stadium erupted. Another fight broke out on the ice and soon they were all standing because this time it was more than two players and one of the referees had been knocked cold. “Jeez,” said Scott as the ref was hauled off on a back board. “You think he’s gonna be okay?”

“Will the game continue?” Kira asked. “Down a ref, can they go on?”

“There’s always another one,” said Scott. “In case of things like this.” All four of them watched absently as the fighting was broken up eventually by other team members and the remaining referees. “But the big question is: who’s going to be boxed for the penalties?”

They watched two of the Bruins take the penalty for the fights and as they cleared the ice and arranged for the game to continue, everyone had a seat. It took a minute before Stiles realized that Derek’s arm was gone from around his shoulders. It was an absence he felt strange about missing. It reminded him of how alone he had been feeling for a while now. Malia and he were never meant to be. She was a little too feral; no matter how he tried to help her she was never truly going to acclimate. And in the end, it wasn’t his worry. It couldn’t be.

CalTech scored again, the advantage passing back and forth as each team took their turns getting goals. “What is it now? Three to two?” asked Stiles. “With those Bruins still in the box, CalTech is gonna score again.”

Derek nodded. “It’s a really good game.” His arm draped over Stiles’ shoulder again and Stiles snuggled into him slightly. Derek’s hand rested on his shoulder and Stiles looked at it and then to Derek. Derek watched him calmly and carefully.

“Seriously?” asked Stiles. He couldn’t help it.

“What?” asked Derek, knowing what Stiles meant to ask all along.

“Me?” he asked. “After all we’ve been through? After annoying the crap out of you constantly- and don’t tell me I haven’t. I’ve been annoying long enough to recognize it when I'm annoying people.” He blinked. “So… me?”

Derek smiled at him. “Yeah,” he said. And then he turned to watch the game.

Stiles never remembered who scored next.

 

~080~

 

Ten minutes before the final and Stiles finally decided to made his move. It would be a simple thing to put his hand on Derek’s knee. He had pat him on the shoulder countless times, what was the difference here? Oh yeah, not getting a glowering look from him as a result. But what would he get for this? _An erection, probably_ , he answered himself. But he had to try. Derek did just practically give him the sexy times go-ahead, didn’t he?

There was only one problem: the Bruins were coming back with a vengeance and the crowd spent the majority of that period on their feet. A knee grab would be totally awkward. Stiles clapped and prayed the Bruins would just decimate the Beavers and get it over with. He either needed to put hands on Derek Hale sometime soon or he would wind up being conspicuously absent from the end of the game because he was too busy trying to nut in one of the bathroom stalls.

The penalties were on the CalTech side this time and the Bruins scored again. Derek was cheering for both sides at once, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He watched the puck fly back and forth and Stiles had no doubt that if Derek ever became a hockey player, he would rule the game. He took in his arms, the curve of his back and ass… yeah. He could totally be a really hot hockey player. Hell, if Stiles were honest, Derek could be a really hot dirt farmer, garbage man, nuclear physicist. Derek was basically hot.

Stiles’ dick was in full agreement. He swallowed down his sexual arousal and tried to focus on the game again, mechanically clapping for no reason whatsoever. Finally he crossed his useless arms and stood there beside the hottest guy in his hemisphere and more than that - a guy who actually wanted him. It was just a bizarre place to be.

The clock was ticking down. The score was tied. The puck was careening from one player to the next. If this kept up, they’d go into overtime. Stiles didn’t know if he could wait. His cock was going to become quite prominent in a few moments. He just thanked God that his Bruins jersey was long enough to cover his crotch.

A warm hand was on the base of his spine and Stiles nearly jumped away from it and into the seats of the people in front of them. Derek’s chocolate and smoky voice was in his ear: “Let’s go.”

 

~080~

 

The bathrooms were completely empty. The game was too good. Derek found the handicapped stall and practically dragged Stiles into it. He secured the door and pressed Stiles between his body and the tiled wall. He inhaled his scent deeply along his neck before taking a kiss from him that rendered Stiles breathless. Frantic hands found the small of Derek’s back, pulling up his shirt to get to warm skin. Derek groaned and ground against Stiles’ now full-blown hardness. Stiles’ tongue licked against Derek’s and felt the velvet smooth of it that set off sparks in his brain like little short circuits of _want_. This is what he had been longing for. He didn’t care that they were in a public bathroom at a stadium. He appreciated that Derek thought of the handicapped stall and the privacy of the moment; it showed more improvised care than having the most romantic of locales in mind for their first time.

He was reveling in the rhythm of hips and tongue when Derek spoke. It was a gruff whisper right into his ear, urgent and full of need: “Want your dick, Stiles. May I?” His hands had paused over Stiles’ flies and he gave him a quick nod of assent before latching onto Derek’s neck which was _right there_ and then Derek’s hands were down his underwear and that was really really good and oh Christ! Derek was stroking him off and his hands were warm warm warm and dear God his tongue was in his mouth again and his back was strong and “Need you, Derek,” Stiles managed before losing his mind all over again to Derek’s touch.

Derek pulled away and looked at Stiles gravely. Without a word he unbuttoned his own jeans and brought out his cock, giving it a stroke or two, smearing the precum at its tip. Stiles watched with slack-jawed fascination. “Christ, you are just sex with legs, aren’t you?” he whispered.

Derek smirked at him before his brow creased with a question: “Stiles, have you ever…?” His voice trailed off, but they both knew what he was asking.

“Let’s put it this way,” said Stiles, drowning in a sea of why-did-you-take-your-hands-off-me, “in theory, I’m bisexual. In practice? Yeah… I’m bisexual. But here’s the thing: I need you to put your hands on me again right now or I’m gonna explode.”

“Good enough for me,” said Derek and he pressed their cocks together in one hot hand.

Stiles let out a sound that humans shouldn’t make and kissed Derek’s throat. At some point he went from saying “thank you thank you thank you” over and over in his head to saying it out loud, but he couldn’t tell when.

“Shut up,” said Derek. “You’ll get us caught.”

“Not my fault that you’re fucking amazing at this,” said Stiles. “This is so much better than doing this alone.” His head lolled back to rest on the tile and Derek pressed his bemused smile to his neck. A concern entered Stiles’ mind: “C-can we keep doing this or is this just… ah! Fuck!” Derek passed his thumb over their heads and was circling it around Stiles’ corona. Stiles thumped his head against the wall and hitched up one leg, wrapping it about the thigh of the dark man who was taking his breath away for the millionth time inside of a minute.

“I’d like this more often,” said Derek finally. He had been watching Stiles fall apart under his touch with reverent awe. “I’d like to play connect-the-dots with your freckles and moles, to be honest.”

“And I’d like to play hide-the-salami with my ass and your dick,” blurted Stiles.

Derek chuckled against his skin, a low rumble that had Stiles moaning. “Shh!” warned Derek. “Game’s almost run out of time.”

“Who’s winning?”

“Who cares?”

“Good point.”

The sounds of their breath and wet sloppy kissing filled the air along with the smacking sound of their flesh against one another. It was erotic enough for Stiles to be at the crest of a thrill inside the seven or so minutes they had together. “Gonna… I’m gonna,” he warned. He lifted their shirts out of the way in anticipation of the mess. The touch of their torsos together was enough to make him come.

“Me too,” said Derek breathlessly. “God, Stiles. Shit. So good.” His eyes bored into Stiles’ soul. “Come all over my hand, you filthy boy.”

That was all the encouragement Stiles needed. He let go and heard Derek grunt with effort. Then he felt the warmth of come that wasn’t his spatter along his lower abdomen followed by the weight of Derek’s head resting on his shoulder as he spent himself.

“Beavers,” said Derek.

“What?” asked Stiles. He had totally forgotten about the game.

Derek brought his head back and kissed him. “Beavers scored in the last three seconds,” he said. “Looks like BC is out of the running.”

“Fine with me,” said Stiles. “I hate hockey anyway.” Derek raised his eyebrows at this. Stiles added with a grin: “But I do love their fans.”


End file.
